Wake Up To The Sound Of Your Fleeting Heart

Entry 1

And We'll Hate What We've Lost But We'll Love What We Find


Jenny has seemed sicker the last week or so.  Her long afternoon sleep, yesterday, did end when my sister arrived for dinner.  However, Jenny had zero energy all evening. She felt terrible all night, both physically, I had to attend to all of her needs, and emotionally, she felt guilty she couldn't help.  I comforted her as best I could, and tried to assuage her feelings of guilt.  She has never been sick like this so far out from chemo. Truly. Never.

She was in utter discomfort; pain in her upper abdomen, in her lower back, and in her spine.  Pain relief was a Hobson's choice.  She could take more pain killers causing more abdominal pain in the future, but offering relief now, or take no more painkillers and suffer excruciating pain now.  

Between 10:30 and midnight, the agony increased.  Convincing her to take meds at around 11 and again at 11:45, I otherwise was powerless to help.  This cancer is incredibly painful.  She is tough.  This is her hell, our hell.  I did all I could do to comfort her.  Nothing worked.  We were leaning toward another weekend in the ER.  She decided, around midnight, to try and sleep.  I sat next to her on her bed, speaking softly, rubbing her back.  The last dose of meds finally kicking in, she fell to sleep.

Last weekend in the ER, we were told Jenny's mets had grown, according to a 
CT scan reading by the radiologist.  The actual report is only released to us 96 hours after the films are taken.  I hadn't viewed them when they were released.  With Jenny asleep, I went and looked.  The news is worse than we were told.  New mets have appeared on her liver.  This may explain the increased abdominal discomfort. My heart sank.

After slipping and falling in the bathtub the other day, the muscles under my left arm and under my left shoulder blade started hurting.  By yesterday, I couldn't lift my arm above my head.  The pain is so bad that last night I slept sitting up on the sectional, pillows under my left arm.  Sitting up from a laying down position, well, ouch.  Almost impossible.  I managed to mow the lawn, clean the house, drive all over, go to the church of Costco, and take care of Jenny yesterday, even so. This morning, the pain is worse, I'm not sure I can do as much today.  Pulled muscles heal, so this too shall pass.


Jenny slept for 3 hours this afternoon, after we returned from our morning errands, which included making an offer on a home.  Jenny woke and insisted on staying awake around 4:00 p.m.  She didn't move from the couch, and hasn't.  Abby and I took Buddy for a long walk in Ravenna Park.  Returning at 5:30, we found Jenny still on the couch, where she remains.

The woman who can't stand still has come to a screeching halt.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Life, A Cascading Series of Disappointment

Image
Jenny has cancer.  Terminal cancer.  We learned that in late July. Jenny had  dropped 25 lbs. in the spring without trying.  She had been having vague stomach complaints since October.  As a balm for her concerns, her doctor agreed to do a CT scan for her, but told her they would find nothing.  Jenny wanted to rule out pancreatic cancer, which had recently killed her dad-in the spring of 2019.  Her mother had been sick with lymphoma since February 2020.  The day of the scan, the doctor told Jenny they would get results back in a few days. When Jenny's phone rang that same afternoon, I was in the living room with Abby, where I was torturing her by playing the Rapping Duke on Youtube. Jenny shouted from the room, "Geoff, get in here, the doctor's on the phone." "You have a four cm. mass on your pancreas,"  he said. Jenny made a sound like someone had punched her in the stomach.  "There is a spot on your liver. You have a necrotic lymph nod...
Read more

Still Muddling Through Somehow

Image
At the park, I walked my dog through the rain this morning— not really proper rain— more like air that has decided to shrug water at you out of habit. It suited my mood well enough. As I walked, my thoughts kept returning to the same small universe they often do. They are not new thoughts. They orbit the same losses. They consider the same betrayals, the same questions that never resolve. They have been captured, these thoughts, never to escape, never to be forgotten, never to burn up in the atmosphere. It is simply the gravitational field of my life now. What might seem or feel like self-pity is more like muscle memory, which tells me I need more exercise. The holidays are here, and Christmas has always been central to my life, atheist that I am. It was stitched into Jenny’s life — the love of Christmas — at least as strongly as it was stitched into mine. We carried that love forward with the kids, year after year, without ever needing to talk about why it mattered; it just did. I...
Read more

Don't Do It, Don't Do It, Oh, Lord

Image
It Hurts, It Hurts So Bad.  .  . 3:44 a.m. I walked in the door last night at just before 10 to find Jenny in a ball on the floor--between the giant ottoman and sectional--agonizing pain in her hip. I had ridden to acting with the student driver.  But, let's back up. Jenny had chemo yesterday.  Her friend Jennifer took her.  It was uneventful and she received chemo.  I, as always, prepared the house for her arrival to make sure she wanted for nothing and would be comfortable as she endures the aftermath of all that poison.  Sometime before she came home, she texted, saying the doctor suggested she try Aleve for her hip pain.  Aleve.   She asked me to pick some up for her while Abby was at acting.   During the text exchange I realized she would be alone after Abby and I left for acting.  Leiney was elsewhere and had therapy at 5 and kickboxing later, and her sister Moni had bailed on chemo because she had so much to do (Wit...
Read more